


Misfits

by homoamphibians



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Adopted Children, Adopted Sibling Relationship, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Character with PTSD, Everyone Has Issues, Found Family, Gen, Mixed Family, Not Beta Read, Not Beta Read We Die Like Tony, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV First Person, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker is a Mess, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Tags Are Hard, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark is Good With Kids, Tony Stark's Child OC, main character has trauma, tony stark has a son
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:22:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24158056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/homoamphibians/pseuds/homoamphibians
Summary: A short time ago in a universe that is not far from this one, a child was born. His parentage unknown and his trauma high, he set off into the world to make something of himself.He finds himself living with his deadbeat father who has a million children already and then has to learn what it's like living with a group of misfits.His name is Albion Stark, and this is his story.
Relationships: Pepper Potts/Tony Stark
Kudos: 2





	Misfits

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fishling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishling/gifts).



I always knew I was related to Tony Stark. 

It was almost a meme in my household. 

My mom used it as a way to lecture me about my grades or academic failing. Well I say lecture, she really meant it as aggressive encouragement. 

I would be struggling with prealgebra and she would tell me that my father was Tony Stark which meant I could do anything. 

Or I would be having some difficulties hacking into the webkinz website and she would tell me that my father was one of the smartest men in the world and if he was that smart, I could be that smart too. Then, of course, she would lecture me about hacking into websites cause that apparently is "rude" and not "socially acceptable". 

It was a mixed bag with her. 

I loved the fact that she always had a way to tie it back to Tony Stark, my supposed father, a man that I had never met. We had never been able to afford to go to any Stark Industries functions and despite living in New York had never run into him. 

I was pretty happy about that. 

My mom was either delusional and Tony Stark wasn't my father or he was a shitty father and either way I had no desire to meet him. 

That only grew as I grew older. 

My mom stopped talking about Tony Stark, due to her fucking dying, but the idea that I was Tony Stark's child stuck with me in the back of my head. 

I ignored that thought usually, like most of the thoughts I had. 

It was extremely irrelevant to me. Everything about me came from my mother, not from some random rich stranger that couldn't bother to pay child support.

I may be related to him but I sure as hell wasn't his son. 

It was just oddly specific obscure knowledge I had that really had no relevancy on my current life. 

I had a lot of knowledge like that. 

Tony Stark was most likely my father, the cafeteria ladies really liked heavy metal, Peter Parker was Spiderman, and there was only one place to get a free turkey sandwich in New York that wasn't diseased. 

Just standard things that really didn't matter too much to me that I knew. 

None of them really had an impact in my life. 

I just ignored people who said that I looked like a Stark, got band recommendations from the cafeteria ladies, never flirted with Mr. Delmar's daughter so I could keep my rights, and pretended that it wasn't obvious Peter was Spiderman. 

Unfortunately, it was painfully obvious that Peter was Spiderman. I was surprised him or his aunt hadn't gotten kidnapped yet, like how did villains not figure it out? Most of my year knew it and we weren't even in the same year as Peter. I hated to think how many people who actually had multiple interactions with him a day knew.

There was most likely just a shit ton of people who pretended not to know that to make him feel better. Or to keep him safe, which was the main reason I held my silence. 

I hated the Avengers and really any superheroes and you might be like Al wow that's pretty rude and yeah it is. That's the thing with hatred, it's filled with rudeness. That being said, however, Peter was a decent kid. More than decent actually. He was one of my only friends, I'm not a big people person, and despite being older than me, he is straight up baby. Which meant, I had to protect him no matter what. 

Thus, the silent. 

Case knew, but no one else knew from me telling them. 

I wouldn't have told anyone but Casey knew everything about me. She was my girl, I couldn't lie to her even if I wanted to. But I didn't even have to try because she already knew and she revealed that she knew as soon as I told her. 

If I had known that, I would have a perfect record for not telling anyone about Spiderman. 

But still, it didn't matter that I knew. I was pretty damn good at keeping secrets, take my trauma as the key example of that. No one knew what I've gone through and what lasting repercussions that had on my mental health and they would never know. 

Mental health was for rich people, people who could afford to have it. 

My aunt and me, well... we couldn't afford it. 

Both of us had shitty mental health. I tried to ignore the fact that life has hard to live every single fucking day, but my aunt didn't have the same luxury. She belonged in a psych ward with medication and therapy. But I couldn't afford to live on my own and she wouldn't let me drop out of school to get a job to pay for her to get help, so here we were. In a shitty apartment, waiting for one of us to finally break. 

I was actually on my way home during all of these thoughts. It often happened that way. To ignore the criminals and violence and people that may kill me if I looked at them, I usually kept my thoughts pretty full on the way home. It also kept me able to keep on walking. My brain runs super fast, which is unfortunate as hell, so if I let these thoughts build up without actively processing them, then we end up with Al stopping in the middle of the sidewalk, unable to process anything. 

Sounds fun yeah?

It is an absolute blast. 

Probably something I got from my deadbeat dad as well. I've had it as long as I remembered so that mixed with the ferris wheel formerly known as my mentla health, really just has my brain working very well and totally not being broken. 

I walked into the apartment building, glaring at the broken elevator before reluctantly going up the stairs. There was nothing I hated more than those death stairs. We were in a war that I was obviously losing. The amount of times I had fallen down those metal stairs and cut open my skin was ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. 

There were 9 flights of stairs before I got to our floor. Our apartment was unlocked which put me on edge but at least it meant I didn't have to put down the prize of stale bagels I was bringing home to unlock it. 

I'll most likely never forget the sight that welcomed me into the apartment. 

Blood. 

A lot of it. 

My aunt sobbing, gut wrenching noises coming out of her body as she shook. 

Then there was, of course, the body that was bleeding out on my floor, which was not good. 

I pulled out my phone before she could notice me and quickly sent out a text to Casey.

**think my aunt murdered someone uh**

_?_

**there's a bleeding corpse on my apartment floor and my aunt is holding a knife so**

_should I call someone?_

**fucking probably**

With that I put my phone away and casually walked in, setting the bagels on the counter-top. 

"Hey brought some food back for you," I remarked casually, offering her a small smile. 

My aunt stared at me, blinking away tears, "Don't come any closer." 

"It's okay. You're okay. Remember me? I'm your nephew," I raised my hands, trying to seem as peaceful as I could. 

Her knife started approaching the body again, "Albion?"

I glanced at the body. It was moving, breathing, still alive. Which meant, I had to get her away from them. 

"Yup, that's me. Your favorite nephew," I started approaching from an angle which meant she would have to turn away from the body. 

My heart was pounding in it's chest, I couldn't breathe. 

The woman that cared for me for so long had just taken a life. I knew she was getting worse, but I never dreamed her a murderer. Mentally ill didn't mean inherently violent so this whole scenario really took me by surprise, and scared the shit out of me if I was being completely honest. 

She locked eyes with me, her eyes slightly unfocused, as she shifted positions to see me better, "I'm sorry. Don't come closer." 

"It's okay," I kept on moving closer to her, "I forgive you. Just put down the knife." 

And then, she lunged at me. 

Before I could react, she had knocked me into the ground, and then I felt some sort of pain in my abdomen. 

I looked down to see a knife in it. 

Huh. 

It turns out realizing you have a stab wound, makes that stab wound hurt so much more. 

She ripped the knife from my body and started sobbing on the ground again, turning away from me. 

I could just watch as blood poured out of my body. 

Which was not good at all. 

I knew one thing about being stabbed, the thing that stabbed you is what is keeping the blood in. If you removed that, well there goes your blood. And it turns out, that's 100% true which I could confirm by the blood pouring out from me like I was a gusher that had gotten ran over. 

Black spots started to form on the edge of my vision, which I couldn't exactly remember what it meant but I'm sure it wasn't good. 

It was at that point that the window broke and a figure arrived, the moonlight acting as a spotlight. 

"Shit," quoth the angelic Spiderman as he picked me up and ran back out the window. 

It was in his arms that I lost consciousness, hoping that I wasn't going to die there. 

That would make Peter upset, and the first rule about dying was to not make Peter upset while doing it. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hello folks welcome to Misfits 2.0. If you're a fan of the old version coming back, welcome back. If you're new here, this story has been written before in a not good way, now I'm going to write it in a good way. 
> 
> Be sure to leave a comment.
> 
> Old readers please do not spoil anything for the new readers!


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